


Tonight I'm gonna dance (for you)

by Irrelevancy



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Prostitution, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrelevancy/pseuds/Irrelevancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You bastard,” Ace hissed.</p><p>“C’mon,” Sabo sing-songed, rolling his hips up again, playfully. “Let’s give them a real show.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight I'm gonna dance (for you)

**Author's Note:**

> for [mugiwaratrash's genius stripper!AU](http://mugiwaratrash.tumblr.com/)

When Sabo came back from Vegas, Shanks tossed half a grand in twenties at Ace and yelled _Party!_ Never mind Sabo walked into the club between sets, never mind Ace was all oiled up and ready to go in a kitschy firefighter outfit. Ace hardly had time to protest, before Law (still unabashedly naked, wearing only his iconic hat and heels, fresh off the stage) snuck the money out of his lap with a wink.

“We can begin the celebrations by giving the brother the special seat, hm?”

And like the vindictive little shit he was (you take a guy’s rice ball _one time_ ), Law shooed Sabo onstage, Shanks right on Sabo’s heels with the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you tonight!” Shanks was crooning, draped over Sabo’s shoulders as both a titillation for the audience and a practical means of keeping Sabo in place. Sabo squirmed little, for his part, first glanced back at Ace over his shoulder with a bemused smile— this wasn’t any new, after all, but he’d back off if Ace really wanted him to. Two thumps to the chest to show his appreciation, Ace gave his blessing to this special performance, at the same time sighing deeply. Oh, his regulars were going to have a _field day_ with this. He could already imagine.

Deep bass continued to thump as Shanks introduced Sabo, their prodigal dancer, back home from the big stage. “To honor you coming home, we’ll be working for _you_ tonight,” Shanks laughed, “so sit tight right here, and help me welcome to the stage, the _one_ — the _only— Aaaace_!”

—and he’s on. His song plays, ambient with just a bit of a jazzy whine, cues for all the dips and leans and swings of the hip. Ace always began his set with some hip-hop, acrobatic trick— pay homage to his street days, and to really get the heartbeats going in the club, the sweat gleaming. The audience screamed for his flip through the air, and Sabo— the punk, he had turned his chair sideways, leaned his elbow against the back with an air of deliberate nonchalance. A challenge. Well, Ace accepts. Keeping with the rhythm for another four counts, eyes on the audience, smile guileless, all to make it the more _impactful_ when Ace suddenly swung low to Sabo’s other side, straightening up in a sensuous body roll. Cheers, yells, hoots, and an answering gleam in Sabo’s eyes. A lick of the lips, too subtle to be purely for show. As smooth as he can, Ace wrapped his fingers around the back and arm of the chair and lifted himself into the air, knees sliding down and over Sabo’s thighs. 

“Hello to you too,” Sabo murmured, careful to keep his downstage arm from blocking the audience’s view of Ace, but letting his other hand twine visibly into Ace’s hair. “Where’s your hat?”

Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, then lips parted _just so_ around each other, so the burning stage lights lit their spit-shiny mouths, the lustful heaving of their chests as they drank the air from each other, but never touched.

“On my dick in the last set,” Ace laughed. “You wanted the hat you should’ve gotten here a bit sooner.”

“I can settle for firefighter.” 

Without warning, Sabo suddenly canted his hip up, startling Ace into a groan. Onstage like this, exposed and _gleaming,_ every touch felt hypersensitive, and Ace couldn’t help but buck forward, the suspender of his outfit slipping from one shoulder. The screams from the audience briefly drowned out the music.

“You bastard,” Ace hissed.

“C’mon,” Sabo sing-songed, rolling his hips up again, playfully. “Let’s give them a real show.”

So they do. In the ensuing struggle for dominance, Ace made the most of his superior muscle mass, while Sabo danced out of his hold with increasingly intricate maneuvers of flexibility. They knew how to best _display_ each other as well, the audience hooting and hollering whenever Sabo managed to pin Ace with wide-spread fingers, Ace’s sculpted musculature flexed and rippling. Ace personally _loved_ the move where he got to basically bend Sabo right in half, pressing down on Sabo’s thighs from above and Sabo yielded easy as paper. Oh, they truly were the best— no wonder Nami wanted Sabo back so badly. Singles, fivers, tens and twenties fluttered and bounced onto stage in crumpled little heaps. Ace could practically hear Nami’s giddy claps from the back.

And when it was all over, Ace and Sabo clasped hands for a sweaty bow— then a kiss, messy and dirty with a liberal amount of hair-grabbing, to _really_ close the show. Because after this was all the private dances, individual stations set up around the dance floor, as well as invitations, Ben Franklins being tucked into waistbands and dancers disappearing for the whole evening. Ace would usually join the ranks, but not tonight— tonight they celebrated Sabo’s return.

Though first, he had to make his rounds.

Leaving Sabo to get wiped down backstage (Shanks laughing, “I thought you weren’t going to work tonight”), Ace pulled on his usual affair, sans hat, and headed for the pit. Lots of groping hands and drunken bodies pressing against his, but Ace politely turned aside the money until he reached the entry way right by the bar. Zoro stood there, beer in one hand and the other draped casually around his baton, shooting the breeze with Smoker. The moment he saw Ace, Zoro nodded and took his leave, leaving just Smoker, who stubbornly refused to turn around.

“Now, I know we’ve talked about this jealousy thing,” Ace teased. As expected, Smoker wheeled immediately around, customary furrow in his brow and cigar in his mouth.

“Insofar as I’ve repeatedly insisted I’m not jealous,” Smoker growled. “You’re a stripper and a sex worker, it’d be ridiculous to get jealous.”

Feigning hurt, Ace answered, “even if I like it when you get all possessive? But you’re right, I am a stripper, and I am a prostitute— and I am also your friend, so this is my official invitation to you. Join us tonight for drinks and food and general debauchery to celebrate Sabo’s return!”

“No, I’m working.”

“After the club closes.”

“Still got late shift.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Ace considered sticking out his tongue and blowing a raspberry, but settled instead for pressing himself flat against Smoker’s wide and _incredibly_ built frame. Smoker made an aborted jerk as if to move away, but Ace knew just the spot at Smoker’s neck to graze his teeth against— Smoker stilled immediately, his hands fluttering at the sides of Ace’s waist. “C’mon, please?”

“No matter how much you beg, still no.” Smoker said that like a dare— but unfortunately, Ace still had people to see, so he had to go in for the quick and dirty.

“If you don’t at least show your face, _Officer_ ,” he whispered, “I’ll tell my grandpa about that time you paid to fuck me.”

Smoker shoved Ace away.

“You gave me the money back,” he snapped.

“Yeah, ‘cause you were such a damn good lay— I’ll be sure to tell gramps that too.”

“Fuck you, Portgas.”

“Sure, afterwards, if it’ll get you to come. So is that a yes?”

Smoker threw his arms up and stomped away, which Ace took as an affirmative. Grinning, he waved Zoro back to his post, and made his way down the west side of the club, where all the booths were. Each booth was outfitted with soft couches and a table, with a curtain at the front for privacy, velvet for minimal silencing ability. On his way there, Ace accepted a martini from a passing waitress, and slipped into booth number one, closest to the stage.

“Ah, I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever show, yoi.”

“As if I’d ever ditch _you_.” With a happy smile, Ace all but threw himself onto Marco’s lap. Grunting in exaggerated effort, Marco nonetheless returned the smile, and hugged Ace close, the caresses of his palm loving and fond. “How’s your night been?”

“Fantastic. Food’s delicious, drink’s wonderful, the show was the cherry on top of the sundae.”

Wrapping his legs around Marco’s waist, Ace grabbed Marco’s face with both his hands.

“So full of praise—” He peered intently at Marco. “—you can’t stay tonight, can you?”

When Marco shrugged helplessly, muttering _Work, you know how it is_ , Ace sighed and poked Marco’s cheek with a finger, more petulantly than sexily.

“But Sabo’s back, and I want you to meet him.” 

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry. Tomorrow night?”

“You’ll be back then?”

“Only got the one meeting,” Marco promised. He leaned in for a kiss, keeping it chaste, lips dry and almost ticklish as they brushed against one another. “Save some of the good stuff for me.” 

“It’s a date.” Shifting meaningfully in Marco’s lap, Ace’s hand began sliding down the bare strip of skin from Marco’s unbuttoned shirt. It was hardly an out-of-place outfit considering their setting, but Ace knew Marco— freak that he was— wore his shirt like this even in negative degree weather. Now though— now was definitely not anything close to cold. “You need some help with that?”

“Don’t you have to go to your party?” Marco chastised, amused.

“I can spare fifteen for my favorite client,” Ace murmured, but Marco’s hand gently pushed his away, before shifting Ace aside and standing up.

“Nah, I’m good. Quite a show tonight, you must be exhausted.” Ever the efficient multi-tasker, Marco downed the martini Ace slipped onto his coaster at the same time he reached down to ruffle Ace’s hair. “Go party, go rest. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”

“You sure?” Having known Marco for three years, Ace was hardly ashamed of sounding disappointed at this point. Marco still paid him out of formality, but honestly Ace would gladly have sex with the man for free. A casual handjob for Marco wasn’t at all _tasking_ in Ace’s book.

“I’ve kept the corporate big wigs waiting long enough.” A hand tucked into his jeans’ back pocket (which Ace definitely staring at), Marco tossed a quick but warm grin over his shoulder before waving bye. “See ya.”

Sighing dramatically in wistful longing, Ace tumbled back into the couch, a second’s respite from the busy night. Sure he loved his work, and had a lot of fun and made a lot of money, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t taxing. The booth was sheltered and dark, if Ace contorted his torso a little and turned his head a certain way. And it was pleasantly cool on his stage-warmed skin, and the couch was really, _really_ soft, smelled of gentle antiseptic and Marco’s cologne, and all of Ace’s muscles were beginning to relax, and… and…

Ace snapped awake to Sabo leaning over him. Their eyes met for one startled second, then Sabo ducked away, chuckling.

“Keep sleeping, if you’d like,” Sabo said, voice pitched quiet as he nodded toward the ground. Casting his eyes down, Ace first saw a mess of black hair in his lap, then Luffy’s sleeping face (drooling and completely childlike, as usual). He immediately paused in his efforts to get up. “Party’s over, sorry to say.”

“Dammit,” Ace groaned, “sorry about that.”

“You’ll make it up to me, don’t worry.” 

“Crap, and I invited Smoker too.”

Laughing again, Sabo gestured behind Ace this time. Glancing where Sabo indicated, Ace examined closer his pillow (oh, that’s right, he didn’t have a pillow when he fell asleep), and only when he spotted the white fur trim did Ace recognize Smoker’s coat. Immediately, Ace recognized the cigar scent as well, blaming his sleep-bleary senses for missing it in the first place.

“You’ve got a good bunch here,” Sabo said approvingly. “Smitten with you, as always.”

“Was the party—” Ace interrupted himself with a yawn, and he dropped his head back onto Smoker’s coat. “Was the party good?”

“Oh, very. You want to hear about it now or sleep though?” Sabo sounded way too amused, and Ace couldn’t parse out why.

“Hear it now,” he mumbled. One hand wandered downwards and began idly carding through Luffy’s hair. Somehow, some time, Ace’s eyes had fluttered shut again, and he felt Sabo’s strong fingers in his own hair, pressing soothingly along his scalp. Ace sighed in contentment. Everything was nearly perfect, if it weren’t for the bright light shining in still from the club outside— and they wouldn’t go off for a while yet, if Ace’s internal clock was telling him right. Oh well, can’t have everything.

…Except, maybe he could— a shadow slipped over his eyes, a familiar texture settling on his brows. His hat.

“They cleaned it first, don’t worry,” Sabo said, soft and amused. His hand in Ace’s hair stilled, before withdrawing. “Go to sleep already, won’t you?”

Sabo knew best— Ace was glad to sleep. Before Sabo left completely though, Ace’s hand stretched out, grasping blindly until he caught Sabo’s wrist. 

“Hey,” he said, voice muffled through his hat, sure, but the sheer, joyous contentment unmistakable, warm like a good hug, “welcome back.”


End file.
